The Quote Drabbles
by Come like shadows
Summary: Each tick of the minute hand uncovers a new memory, forges new connections. Ianto Jones remembers, and is remembered. Pre-, post- and during CoE. Slash. But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day.


Drabble one: What a strange power there is in clothing.

_(Ianto likes stripes. And crisp white shirts._

_His father stands in the doorway, buttoning the collar of his shirt. It's white, and freshly ironed. Ianto can hear the rusty shriek of the ironing board as his mother puts it away in the broom cupboard, dim swearing as all of the brooms fall out right before she manages to get the door shut._

_There's a striped tie hanging on a hook right next to the front door. It's blue and black, the blue too faded and the black too shiny in comparison. But it's the only tie his father owns, put on right before he leaves for work and taken right off when he enters the door._

_His father drapes the tie around his neck, and makes sure it's the right side up._

_The tie used to be in a permanent Windsor knot, loosened and tightened only to take it on and off. But now it's Ianto's job._

_Ianto scuttles over, his pants are a bit too long and he doesn't want to fall over again, and looks at his father. He's picked up and placed on the table that Mum usually puts mail on. Ianto doesn't make eye contact with his father, instead he focuses on the smell of his aftershave, the little nick in the shadow of his jaw where he pulled the razor over the skin too fast. The grey stubble that never leaves the lower half of his face no matter how many times he shaves in one day._

_These are the things he remembers most clearly of his father._

_In less than two minutes the tie is tied. His father nods, grabs the plastic bag that holds his lunch, and walks out the door. He doesn't close it behind him._

_Ianto watches, still standing on the corner table. Once he steps out of the door, his father becomes a silhouette, dark in the golden daylight of the morning. Specs of dust float in the doorway, disturbed by his passage._

_His mother yells at him to close the door. Rhi sprints by, a doll in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.) _

Drabble two: Find yourself a cup of tea; the teapot is behind you. Now tell me about hundreds of things.

The teacup is shattered in the sink, black tea swirling around the ceramic basin, the tea bag torn open and lodged in the drain.

Rhiannon stands above the sink, arms braced on the counter.

If she leaves the grinds to sit on the bottom of the basin for too long, it'll leave a mark. But she doesn't move.

Everything is reduced to smudges of color, echoes of sound. Things move past her too quickly to be tracked, she's falling behind.

She can't touch the shards in the sink; her hands are suddenly shaking, when just before they had been fine.

She wants to lie down, she wants to go for a walk, she wants to get something to drink, she doesn't want too touch the kettle. She turns the water on, watches as it pushes the little broken pieces closer to the drain. All the grinds are gone, but the smell lingers in the air.

She wants her baby brother back.

_(Mum is teaching them to make tea._

_Rhi doesn't want to because tea is really gross, it smells weird, and there are so many better things to do._

_Mum measures out the leaves, puts them in a rusty tea steeper- it kindof looks like two connected little spoons, only on a spring, with lots of holes in it. Rhiannon watches as she sets the crazy little device in a mug of hot water. She'd like one of those, she could keep it in her pocket, use it to pinch Ianto when he got too quiet._

_Ianto who's looking intently past their mother, staring at the many jars on the table filled with leaves, all in many different colors some with flowers. He counts on his fingers how long his mother lets the leaves sit._

_Rhiannon fidgets, pulling at the ragged bow holding up her hair._

_In nearly a decade, Ianto Jones will use an old stopwatch to count out the seconds, instead of his fingers. _

_Rhi runs out of the room. Goes to hide, turn the old heirloom chairs into a clubhouse or a castle. Reorganize all of the books in Ianto's side of the room, just to see how red he can get._

_In the middle of the night, Ianto practices. Tea cups and coffee cups begin to stack up in the kitchen, cover all counter space, gleam porcelain white in the moonlight streaming in through the kitchen window._

_In the morning, all of the little jars on the table will be empty, but for now Ianto perfects his art.)_

Drabble three: But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day.

When Jack leaves Earth for the last time, there are only two things in his pocket.

There is a tie, in a very tasteful red and silver. It smells like coffee beans and green apple hand soap.

A stopwatch, with a lesser shine than higher end watches of the kind. Scratched from years of handling.

Jack knows he should have left it for Ianto's sister, but he didn't. All he has are memories of Ianto, full of heat and motion. It could be an heirloom, something to pass down from youngest sibling to youngest sibling, something to give to the underdog, to inspire hope.

But it's already been established that Jack is a selfish person. You can't hold memories.

_(This time it's Jack who comes to Ianto._

_He step is slower, more confident. There's a predatory grin on his face._

_Ianto sits at Jacks desk, seemingly calm, out of view he tenses his muscles-waiting._

_Jack enters the room, his shoulders filling up the suddenly narrow doorway. As he walks, he pushes one button out of its hole, then another. The braces are already gone, to be found draped on the stairs in the morning._

_There's a tight feeling in Ianto's chest, equal parts anticipation and arousal._

_Jacks hips touch the desk. He looks down at the stopwatch Ianto has placed in the very center of his desk. "What are we timing today, IantoJones?"_

_Ianto smiles and Jack's taken aback. There's no witticism behind it, no sardonic anecdote. Ianto's smile is open and giddy and showing far too many teeth, creating little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He's excited and happy to be here, in the Hub at three in the morning. He's only smiled like this for Jack, only because of Jack. _

_Something in Jack's chest hurts. He almost wants to change his mind, tell Ianto they can save the dirty stuff for later, and just sit in the office and preserve this moment for as long as they can._

_Ianto thumbs the knob, the second hand begins to jerk forward. "How long it can take for you to catch me." And he's gone, past Jack, sprinting down the steps, his suit jacket unbuttoned and flapping behind him._

_The clock eats up the three seconds of shock. After that, the chase is truly on. Ianto Jones is beautiful.)_

[Uh!]


End file.
